


Forever and Always

by maxride003



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Cowboy AU, FAHC, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Immortal FAHC AU, Just a mix of different time period boys, M/M, tw for drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 10:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18798859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxride003/pseuds/maxride003
Summary: When a heist goes bad, Ryan finds himself fighting to stay alive and get help. It's a desperate fight that's fueled only by a centuries-old promise, and the knowledge that Jeremy will always be there to help him up.





	Forever and Always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AtrumCorvus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtrumCorvus/gifts).



> The RT writing community put together a secret springfairy event (think Secret Santa just...in spring), and this is my story for one of our members! I unfortunately didn't end up writing the nice, cheerful little fic I was originally planning, but I love it anyway, and hope other people do too!

It had to have been some kind of record for how quickly the heist had turned sour. Ryan had hardly taken off before there was an explosion of shouts and chaos in his earpiece, coming from the rest of the crew.

Ryan winced at the sudden onslaught of noise, eyes quickly scanning the area for anything out of the ordinary. Night had fully blanketed the city a couple hours before, the moon overhead bathing the land in a gentle silver glow. It wouldn’t have been hard to pinpoint a fire or explosion or anything like that in these conditions, but everything seemed calm and quiet from where Ryan sat.

The helicopter slowly gained altitude, drifting over the lake that separated the airstrip from the rest of the city. It was nearly impossible to hear what was going on with everyone else, their voices combining into a wall of noise that Ryan could only occasionally interpret. Gavin screeched in surprise, Geoff kept asking what was going on with no real answer following, Michael cackled at something happening near him, Jack was insisting louder and louder that he hadn’t done anything, and Jeremy was loudly yelling out taunts.

All Ryan could figure out was that it was probably best if he got to the rest of them as soon as possible. The helicopter might not be a reliable escape vehicle anymore, but it was still good transportation. And there was a gun hanging from the underside.

“I’m coming in!” he said, adding his voice to the chaos, and not sure if he was even heard. Ryan pushed the helicopter forward over the lake, still fairly low in the sky with a new impatience to just get moving, the chopper moving easily under his hands as he guided it with practiced precision.

“ _ Ryan! _ ” His name startled him, screamed so clearly amongst everything else, Jeremy’s voice laced with terror. But anything else Ryan might’ve heard was drowned out beneath the impact of a missile.

The helicopter lurched out of Ryan’s control, a heavy force whipping it around as a blast of noise nearly deafened him and the night sky was lit with rolling flames. Alarms and alerts started flashing on the console, the chopper kept spinning despite Ryan’s attempts to right it, and outside the window was a blur of darkness as land, water, and sky blended together seamlessly, leaving Ryan confused as to which way was even up anymore.

There wasn’t time to figure out what had happened, no time to try to fix things, no time to react at all. Ryan realized he was yelling a string of nonsense words and thoughts that were all jumbled up in his brain, spinning out of control with the helicopter. Then the chopper jolted as it slammed into the surface of the lake.

Dazed and moving on autopilot, Ryan pulled himself up from his seat, scrambling for some kind of hold as the helicopter tilted below him and water rushed inside. The voices through his earpiece had faded into a buzzing background noise, joined by the screaming alarms and the crackling of flames. All Ryan noticed was the voice screaming in his head to get  _ out _ , and get out  _ now _ .

The water was rising rapidly, the weight of the helicopter pulling it under at an alarming pace, water rushing through the side doors. Ryan hauled himself toward the doors, grabbing onto anything he could get a solid hold on - the seats, a section of wall, the edge of a small storage unit - but he wasn’t moving quickly. Couldn’t force his way through the rushing water, at that angle, couldn’t get up and out before the doors were submerged and the last bubble of oxygen remaining near the ceiling was quickly vanishing.

Taking a deep breath, Ryan let himself fall beneath the water level completely, and all noise ceased. There was a sharp crackle from his earpiece as it died, the alarms fell silent, the fire was no more, and all he could hear was the rushing of water in his ears. Ryan surged forward, hoping the weightlessness of being underwater would help him move faster, make it so he could get out.

Finally, his chest already hurting from holding his breath and vision nearly going white with sudden terror, Ryan’s fingers closed on the edge of the door and he launched himself out.

Freed from the interior of the helicopter, Ryan set his sights up, where the darkness was just a little less, where the moonlight glimmered on the surface of the lake. He didn’t know how far the chopper had fallen before he’d gotten clear, how much of a distance he had to cover, but he fought to rise. Even as he did, he could feel a suction pulling at his toes, the waters of the lake still pouring in to fill the space of the helicopter, keeping Ryan from making any progress for an infuriating few seconds.

Then the pressure released, the water settling in the wake of the crash once more, even as smaller shrapnel floated down past Ryan and into the depths of the lake. His lungs screamed for air, dark spots started flashing in his vision, and Ryan scrambled desperately for the surface. It was impossible to tell how far he had to go in the darkness, nearly impossible to even tell which direction he was aiming for, and he fought to hold his breath as long as possible, biting back on the impulse to gasp for air.

Eventually, who knew how far from the surface or how long after the crash, that impulse was impossible to ignore. Ryan’s vision faded away, and as he started to lose consciousness, he opened his mouth and took a breath. The last thing he registered was the cold water rushing into his mouth, down his throat, burning his lungs and his chest, and then it all went quiet.

 

* * *

 

 

Ryan was back in daylight, fighting against the current of a river, quickly scanning for anything he could grab onto. His shoulder burned, the gunshot wound that had sent him toppling off his horse protesting the cold water, as it washed his blood downstream. Past the roaring of the waters around him, Ryan could faintly make out the hoofbeats of other horses, the whoops and hollers from his crew.

Rocks dotted the river and Ryan lunged for one, digging his fingers into the crevices even as the rapids threatened to pull him away. But Ryan held firm, clinging to the rock for dear life. Getting on top of it seemed an impossible task, requiring an arm strength he didn’t currently possess and a lot of luck to not slip and fall back again. But he had a good grip, and a stable spot to figure out how to handle his difficult situation next.

His dripping wet hair fell into his face and Ryan blew a breath upward, trying to make it move, with no such luck. It clung to his skin as stubbornly as he held onto the rock, dripping water into his eyes. There were other rocks around, and thick roots near the riverbed that broke through the dirt and snaked down to the water, things Ryan could use to climb out if he could get to them. But the cold of the water was sapping his strength, he was still bleeding readily, and it was effort enough to just hold on.

The pounding of hooves drew nearer and Ryan looked up the river bank toward the sound, half expecting to see a rival gang member bearing down on him to finish the job. Instead, his heart soared and a small smile spread across his face as he watched Jeremy, bent low over his mottled grey horse, hurry down the river toward Ryan and his rock.

“Hold on, Ryan, I got you!” Jeremy shouted as he pulled his horse to a stop, loose rocks and bits of dirt flying up beneath its hooves. Jeremy leapt down from his saddle, grabbing the lasso hanging off the horn, and threw it with ease to Ryan and his rock.

Ryan grabbed onto the thick rope gratefully, letting go of his rock and focusing only on the rough fibers beneath his hands. The water pulled him further downstream, but then he stopped. Jeremy had looped the rope around one of the trees whose roots were reaching out, using it as additional leverage as he planted his feet and pulled.

Slowly, Ryan was pulled closer to the shore, until his feet found purchase among the smooth rocks and he could haul himself clear. He collapsed at the water’s edge, breath coming in great gasps and the river still licking at the toes of his boots.

Above him, Jeremy’s face blocked out the sun overhead, his smile just as bright to Ryan’s tired eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

Ryan lifted his hand in a tired thumbs-up, returning Jeremy’s smile. “I’m perfect,” he said, relief washing through him at his friend’s quick rescue.

 

* * *

 

 

It didn’t take long for Ryan to come to, his body rapidly repairing the damage it had undergone in his drowning, and his eyes shot open. It was probably another record, time between deaths, as in a momentary haze of confusion, Ryan forgot where he was and took another breath.

This time he felt it more as his chest was set on fire, his lungs screaming for reprieve, and Ryan coughed on impulse, only managing to inhale more water as he bucked desperately in the water, seeking some solace, some help.

Then everything went dark again.

 

* * *

 

 

It was late, the crew happily retired to their camp at the edge of a much kinder river. The leaves of the trees overhead rustled pleasantly, and birdsong joined with the celebratory laughter that filled their current makeshift camp. A fire had been lit, and whatever was cooking over it smelled wonderful, Ryan’s belly rumbling at the scent.

He stood off to the side a bit, carefully tending to his horse. It had spooked after he’d lost his seat, running off away from everything, but Michael had gone and gotten it back before it had gone too far or hurt itself. Now Ryan was making sure it hadn’t gotten hurt in the firefight, hadn’t done anything to damage its hooves or legs on its wild flight.

Ryan’s shoulder had been bandaged, the clean white dressings in stark contrast to the rough, dark vest and button-up he wore. He’d mostly dried out, except for a faint dampness in his hair, and was feeling significantly better than he had been earlier.

As Ryan was busying himself brushing his horse’s mane out, Jeremy slipped up beside him, his hat pulled low to guard against the setting sun. “I’m glad you’re alright,” Jeremy said, leaning his hip against the hitching post and stroking the snout of Ryan’s horse when it started seeking out attention.

“All thanks to you, really. Everyone else seemed happy to just let me float on down the river.” Ryan offered a smile, hinting at the small joke, and Jeremy laughed lightly.

“Maybe. I think Gavin was wondering how far you’d be able to get,” he said. He nudged Ryan with his arm, his smile soft and comforting. “But you know, we’re always here for you. To help you out. That’s what we do, after all. And I’ll  _ definitely _ always be around to pick your ass back up.”

Ryan scoffed, shaking his head and putting the brush away. “Always is an awful long time, Jeremy. I don’t think you could do it that long.”

Jeremy was quiet for a moment, watching him, before he pushed off of the post. “Wanna go for a walk?”

 

* * *

 

 

When Ryan came to his senses again, it was with a little bit less of a cloudy head. Once again, his body was fine, the water dispelled from his lungs. But still they screamed for air, screamed for him to get moving and get gone, and this time Ryan wasted no time in moving.

It was impossible to tell how long he’d been under. The time between resurrections was sometimes difficult to judge - in the last couple hundred years the crew had been around, they had yet to find any kind of distinguishing pattern. It was also nearly impossible to tell if he’d sunk or risen more, if his buoyant dead weight had done more than his wild thrashing last time.

All Ryan did know was that he could now tell which direction he was heading.

Bright lights moved about on the surface of the lake, small suns drifting back and forth across the waves, providing him with a beacon to follow. Ryan kicked and clawed at the water, more controlled than last time, focused only on getting up higher and getting to air. On not letting the lake claim him for a third time that night.

The now familiar black spots started to mar his vision once again, and Ryan forced himself upward with the last of his strength. The lack of oxygen made his movements sluggish, weakened his body, but he fought against it and desperately reached for the top of the water.

As his vision was about to fade again, and he couldn’t go another couple seconds without taking a breath, he broke through the water. Cold air smacked him in the face and Ryan gasped, swallowing half a mouthful of water as he dipped back below the surface briefly. His head was light with lack of oxygen, any noise nearby a dull background to the thud of his heartbeat in his ears, his vision slowly trying to piece itself back together as his body realized he wasn’t going to lose consciousness again.

A blinding light passed overhead and Ryan winced, closing his eyes and forcing his tired limbs to keep treading water, to keep his head above the surface. His body protested, screamed for rest, but Ryan fought with what little strength he could muster.

If he could just stay above the water and stay awake, he knew his friends would come for him. They always did.

 

* * *

 

 

Ryan and Jeremy ended up at the edge of the river, sitting with their bare feet dipped in the water, their boots discarded nearby. The setting sun lit the water in all the colors of a fire, and offered just a hint more of warmth before the moon would take over.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, shoulders pressed together, and Ryan was starting to doze off when he felt Jeremy moving beside him. Jeremy turned a bit to face Ryan, looking very serious and a little bit hesitant.

“You know I mean it, don’t you?” he said, breaking the silence that had settled around them. “I’m always going to be there for you. And the others, they will too, but me especially.”

“You promise?” Ryan teased, his light tone off-setting Jeremy’s.

In response, Jeremy pulled a knife from his belt, and before Ryan could do anything, Jeremy had the blade cradled in his hand. Then he pulled, in one quick motion, slicing a line across his palm.

Ryan jumped, spinning around, eyes wide as he watched Jeremy casually regard the cut and then offer his hand to Ryan as if to shake. “What the hell was that?” Ryan blurted, looking around for anything he could use to stop the bleeding. “We need to get you some bandages or something, let’s get back - “

Jeremy smiled and put his non-bloody hand over Ryan’s mouth, stopping the frightened babble, and Ryan just stared back. “You wanted me to promise, didn’t you?” Jeremy said, still offering his hand out as blood dripped from his palm onto the dirt below. “Are you going to leave me hanging?”

Ryan looked from Jeremy, to his hand, to the knife, as Jeremy pulled his hand back from Ryan’s mouth again. “You’re insane,” Ryan said. But he slowly reached out and took the knife resting on Jeremy’s knee and, with a bit more hesitation, repeated the motion on himself.

A grin lit Jeremy’s face and he grasped Ryan’s bloody hand in his own. The contact stung against the fresh cut. Without letting go, Jeremy locked eyes with Ryan, his expression soft and gentle and filled with the promise that left his lips. “I promise - no, I swear - that I’ll always be there to help you and back you up and get you back on your feet.  _ Always _ .”

A chill ran down Ryan’s spine at the words, but he couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face. A moment of silence stretched between them, and then Ryan pulled Jeremy closer, leaning in to kiss him.

It was a silly promise, really, and an even more ridiculous way of doing it. Always was an impossibility, with a rapidly approaching expiration date in their line of work. And yet the way that Jeremy said it, the way Ryan felt even with a fresh bullet wound and soggy clothes and a hand dripping with fresh blood, it was as if those words could really come true. Like Jeremy would really be there forever.

And amazingly, he had yet to be wrong.

 

* * *

 

 

The blades of another helicopter hit Ryan’s ears, the blinding light staying on him. A spray of water shot up around him, peppering his face as a helicopter lowered, its blades close enough to disturb the surface of the water. The sound was nearly deafening after the silence of the lake.

Something splashed close to Ryan, and he cracked his eyes open against the light. A spotlight hanging from the bottom of the helicopter shone down on him, illuminating the rope ladder that had been thrown down and now partially floated on top of the lake’s surface.

A pair of brightly colored shoes entered Ryan’s vision and he looked up, blinking the water out of his eyes. Jeremy looked down at him in concern, one hand holding the rungs of the ladder, the other extended down toward Ryan. A thin scar cut across his palm, still visible after so many resurrections over a couple of centuries.

That sense of relief flooded Ryan and he forced his tired limbs to move him closer, made himself reach up out of the water and grasp Jeremy’s offered hand. His own scar lined up with Jeremy’s, sealing the now silent promise as Jeremy hauled him up onto the safety of the ladder.

As the helicopter ascended, and Ryan clung with tired desperation to the thin wooden slats, he never let go of Jeremy’s hand. Didn’t lose contact with him, didn’t break that promise, not until they were safely out of harm’s way.

It was a good, quiet reminder that the crew, that Jeremy, had and would always be there.


End file.
